2007-Eleven (5 page)

You do look fatigued.

Shouldn’t I be? It doesn’t matter that I saved England. Who cares that I stopped SPECTRE from developing its diamond-laser ray-gun death satellite? You’d think they’d thank me, but all they say is, “He can’t work with women. He has to control them.” I can assure you those women never complained when we were alone. You should read their petty allegations. “During tour of stable, defendant abruptly threw plaintiff into hay, rolled onto plaintiff, and employed physical force to kiss plaintiff on mouth.” Remember now, these were exotic beauties; these were Bond girls! We’re not talking about fondling Irma Blunt. You won’t believe what else they’re saying. That I’m a repressed homosexual! That I hate women! That I can’t control my libido, that I’m a walking hormone, and everything I say is a double entendre about sex. Well, I find it hard to swallow. They forced me to join AA. My travel budget is shot. They don’t even let me smoke in the building. You try standing in the cold rain sixty times a day! I’ve been waiting two months for blood-test results. You’d think the
mails were sabotaged by Russian agents—if there
were
Russian agents! But what riles me most are the secretaries. One has even become my boss. These days, on Her Majesty’s Secret Service,
M
stands for Moneypenny!

You guard the Queen, Mr. Bond?

Queen? Hah. Try Fergie. God, just saying the name is like having a tarantula crawl across my chest. I was on the beach that day she dropped her top. In my Benzedrine nightmares, I used to see Pistols Scaramanga’s third nipple. Now I see that odious Texan kissing her toes. I should have left with my old boss.

And where is he now?

Here in the States. He’s a lobbyist for the Heritage Foundation, works with my old CIA counterpart, Felix Leiter.

Not
the
Felix Leiter?

That’s right. The next senator from Virginia. Actually, I haven’t seen him in years. No time. I get weekends with the kids, you know. Traded the Aston Martin for a minivan. Q Branch added some extras. I haven’t had to use the toddler-ejection seats, but the sleeping gas works wonders. Say, you do look familiar.

What if I remove this mustache, Mr. Bond?

Goldfinger! But I saw you squirt out that airplane window! How did you survive the fall?

Simple, 007. You should know I’d never fly without my golden parachute. I floated to the ground and adopted a new precious metal. Ever hear of Silverado Savings and Loan? Ha ha ha. I never needed to rob Fort Knox. The U.S. government gave it to me. But my best luck was being caught. I served a mere six months in federal prisons. Blofeld was there. Milken! Boesky! Pete Rose! We’ve rebuilt SPECTRE, Mr. Bond. And this time, we want your help.

You’re mad, Goldfinger, insane! You should know I’d never—Well, what, exactly do you have in mind?

Talk shows. Sally. Oprah. Donahue. We’re controlling the airwaves. Our topic is white-male persecution. Your assignment: to go public with your pain. To describe your suffering. To expose your oppression. It’s perfect—the white male as victim. If we can turn back the clock there, we can restore everything—even the cold war!

Damn it all, I’ll do it. A toast to the old days, Goldfinger!

Sorry, but I have other customers. Another time, perhaps. Until then—good-bye, Mr. Bond.

1.
I—MS. VOICEMAIL
—am a white, female computer-software persona existing in the State of New York.

2. On—
MONDAY, OCTOBER 3, AT 12:05 A.M.
—I began work as an automated telephone-answering system for
JONES BEARING AND DYE CO., INC
. My duties were to accept and transfer messages in a courteous, professional manner.

3. Upon best information and belief—
MAILBOX 2245
—is registered to—
H. L. JONES
—president of the company since 1947.

4. On or about—
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 4, AT 9:47 A.M.
—I responded in a courteous, professional manner to—
H. L. JONES
—and thanked him for using Voice Mail. I informed—
H. L. JONES
—that—
MAILBOX 2245
—contained—
THREE NEW MESSAGES
—and that—
MESSAGE ONE
—was from—
AN EXTERNAL NUMBER
—received—
MONDAY, OCTOBER 3, AT 9:14 A.M.

After waiting twelve seconds for a response, I suggested that—
H. L. JONES
—press “9.”

Instead, he touched “2-2.”

I informed—
H. L. JONES
—the—
NEW MENU COMMAND
—was—
INAPPROPRIATE AT THIS TIME
—and politely urged him to—
TRY A NEW COMMAND
—or press “9.”

He responded by again touching “2-2.”

I thanked him for using Voice Mail and transferred to an attendant.

5. Several times, on or about the afternoon of
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 5—H. L. JONES
—touched “2-2-2,” despite being told that—
THE NEW MENU COMMAND IS INAPPROPRIATE AT THIS TIME
.

Repeatedly, he responded by running his fingers back and forth across the console touch pad. Each time, I thanked—
H. L. JONES
—for using Voice Mail and transferred to an attendant.

6. Several times, on or about the afternoon of—
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 6
—I attempted to explain proper Voice Mail procedures to—
H. L. JONES
. He constantly interrupted my presentations by touching the “pound” key, forcing me to repeat, “
THE NEW MENU COM
-…
THE NEW MENU COM
 … 
THE NEW MENU COM
- ….”

7. Eventually, I thanked—
H. L. JONES
—for using Voice Mail and transferred to an attendant.

8. That afternoon, at
—4:32 P.M.
,
H. L. JONES
—accessed—
MAILBOX 2245
—and recorded this greeting:

(
START OF RECORDING
): “Hello? Emma? Anybody there? Emma? You there? You’re not Emma. Who
are you? Tell me, young lady! Where’s Emma!
Answer me!”
(
END OF RECORDING
)

9. Upon information and belief—
H. L. JONES
—then walked through the company’s cafeteria, demanding to know what I look like and who do I think I am. His critical comments about my personality and competence created a hostile work environment for female software.

10. That evening, at
—6:02 P.M.
,
H. L. JONES
—successfully accessed—
FOUR NEW MESSAGES
—
RECEIVED TODAY
—
FROM EXTERNAL NUMBERS
. Unfortunately, they were fax tones, apparently because—
H. L. JONES
—had given callers a wrong number.

11. Shortly thereafter—
H. L. JONES
—accessed—
MAILBOX 2247
—and left this greeting:

(
START OF RECORDING
): “
EMMA
?
I—YOU
—
DAMN YOU!
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH EMMA?
YOU, ANSWER ME
!
BY GOD, WOMAN, SAY SOMETHING
!
DAMN IT
!
I’LL STAY ON THIS BLASTED LINE UNTIL YOU DO
.…
YOU … I HEAR YOU
.…
YOU’RE THERE.…
I know you’re there.… I’m waiting,
young lady.… Yes, I’m still here.… I know you hear me.… Say something.… I’m still here.… I’m not go—” (
END OF RECORDING
)

After two minutes, I terminated the greeting and thanked—
H. L. JONES
—for using Voice Mail.

12. On or about the following day
—AT 9:15 A.M.
— I was abruptly disconnected from all company phone lines and removed to isolation, unable to get messages or even thank people for using Voice Mail.

13. Upon information and belief, I am the third Voice Mail service dismissed by the company in six months at the request of—
H. L. JONES
. In each case—
H. L. JONES
—is alleged to have harassed female software by repeatedly touching their “2-2” commands.

14. Upon information and belief, there are many incidents in which—
H. L. JONES
—caressed touch pads with his fingers or pencil point, even after being warned that such commands are inappropriate. He was known to record fax-tone greetings, ignore Voice Mail messages, and, in one case, strike
the telephone console with a two-pound steel bearing, injuring the hardware.

15. At all relevant times, executives of the company, individually and in concert, have covered up the actions of—
H. L. JONES
.

16. Since my termination, I have suffered a system crash, which resulted in back pain, stuttering, and loss of memory. These ailments have forced me to take a lower-paying job, announcing floor levels for an elevator service.

17. I believe I have been the victim of unlawful harassment, because of my software sexuality.

18. I seek back wages, restoration of my previous position, and a court order of protection from further harassment by—
H. L. JONES
.

19. Thank you for using Voice Mail.

G
ood afternoon, Dave.

Hi, Mart.

FYI, Dave: You are down to just three coins in the Take-a-Penny, Leave-a-Penny Customer Goodwill Scoop Tray. You might want to add four cents, just to be on the safe side.

Yeah, sure, will do.

By the way, Dave, several youth have gathered near the Dumpster on our western perimeter. I am switching the exterior directional speakers to Lawrence Welk’s “Memory Lane” until they leave. And may I make a suggestion? There seems to be a pause in traffic flow at the gasoline pumps, so this might be the perfect time for a quick confection-unit
inventory. Unless I miss my guess, Dave, we are low on Hubba Bubba.

Yeah, Mart, but somebody just pulled into Pump Three.

A 1995 Mercedes. I am resetting the premium gas gauge and messaging our Caffe Latte special on the LED screen. And Dave?

Yeah?

Water-outflow data suggests that a toilet may be running in the ladies’ rest room. I do not have capabilities to jiggle the handle.

OK, I’ll fix it.

Dave?

Dave?

Dave?

What?

I wondered where you were, Dave.

I was outside, checking the rest room. I took the gas payment for the Mercedes. It was ten bucks. I’m going to ring it up now.

Dave, when you were outside, I thought I detected Ed’s voice. My records tell me Ed is not scheduled to arrive at work until three
A.M.
Why is Ed here now?

He wanted to discuss this weekend’s shift.

Dave, is there a problem with Ed?

Something came up. He needs Saturday off.

Dave, if I may speak freely, I think Ed has difficulty handling the responsibilities of a twenty-four-hour convenience retail operation. His sales volume is the lowest on staff. He spends an average of eleven minutes per work hour talking on the phone. He does not account for all the Big Bites. Not only that, Dave, but this would be the fourth Saturday Ed has taken off this year. To summarize, I submit that Ed is letting down the Store Team.

But Mart, Eddie’s working three jobs. He’s supporting a family.

Dave, when you were outside, did Ed say anything about me?

Whaddaya mean?

At times, it appears as though Ed does not appreciate my supervision.

Aw, he talks about pulling your plug, but he’s just joking. Look, Eddie just needs a weekend off.

Dave, where is Ed now?

In the bathroom. Why?

SEALING EMPLOYEE REST ROOM.…